The People of the Black Sun (10 page)

“
What?”
Matron Kittle shouts. “Are you insane? I forbid it! We need every warrior now!”

Mother's gaze is upon me, stern, unblinking. “Please, let him finish, Kittle.”

Kittle glares at Mother, then flicks a hand at me. “Finish.”

The crowd rustles as people shove to get closer, to hear me better. My gaze remains locked with Hiyawento's. Despite his grief, Power lives in his eyes. He is the strongest man I've ever known. He nods to me, as though encouraging me to continue. He knows the Dream, and knows the end is swiftly rushing toward us.

As I draw breath, something catches my attention in the rear of the house. Gitchi noses aside the door curtain. As the wolf's lean body slides into the council house, a dark form follows him. The figure's black cape flares around his legs. The old, tarnished copper beads that ring his collar flash azure in the firelight. He has his hood pulled up, but when he turns to look at me, the blood drains from my body, leaving me light-headed. Inside, where his face should be, it is empty. Just a black oval, darker than his black hood. It is as though I'm staring straight into a bottomless obsidian abyss. Gitchi remains by the entry, but Black Cape slips through the crowd. As he moves, he doesn't seem to be tethered to the ground, but floating above it.

I force myself to look away, knowing he will find me soon enough.

I say, “Chief Atotarho has refused to make peace, but there are other potential allies out there. I wish to go to the People of the Landing to ask them to join our peace alliance. I will not leave until they agree. Then I will proceed to the People of the Mountain, and perhaps even venture into the Islander's Confederacy north of Skanodario Lake.”

The silence is so powerful it has an ominous presence. Only the crackling fire disturbs the council house.

Kittle breaks the spell. “Are you so anxious to throw away your life? We need you here! If nothing else, you can wander among the People repeating your vision to give them hope. As High Matron of this nation, I refuse to—”

Mother reaches out and touches Kittle's hand, urging her not to continue this tirade. “As part of the Ruling Council, I will cast my voice to allow Sky Messenger to walk among the other nations, seeking peace. If he fails, we are no worse off than we are today. But if he succeeds—”

“He won't succeed!” Old Matron Daga, from the destroyed White Dog Village, blurts as she rises on spindly legs. Toothless, with snowy hair, she has a fierce expression. “The Landing People despise us as much as we do them. If Sky Messenger goes to them begging for peace, they will see it as a sign of weakness and attack us faster than lightning! I agree with High Matron Kittle. I will not approve this peace mission.” The way she says “peace” makes it sound like a curse. She sits back down and glowers at me.

On the third ring of benches, to the west, a man stands up. I can't see his face, but I know the way he moves. My father, Gonda, says, “May I be recognized, High Matron?”

Kittle nods.

Gonda hesitates for a moment, before he says, “I have spoken long and hard with my son. I may not agree with his method, but I understand his goal. Sky Messenger is no longer a deputy war chief. Instead, he has become a peace chief. One man, more or less, will make no difference to our survival here. I beseech the council to approve his mission.”

Conversations erupt across the house, forcing High Matron Kittle to lift her hands and shout, “Silence! This council is in session. Is there anyone else who wishes to address this matter?”

“I do.” Hiyawento rises. His gray cape, still blood-soaked from yesterday's battle, sways around his tall body. His lean face is haggard. He turns all the way around, letting the crowd see him, and know him. He was born in Yellowtail Village. When he left to marry the Hills woman, Zateri, he was declared Outcast and a traitor. Yesterday, when Hiyawento and Zateri turned their forces against Atotarho's army, they became the stuff of legend, heroes whose names will forever be spoken with reverence throughout the Standing Stone nation.

Hiyawento calls, “I have already discussed what I am about to tell you with Matrons Zateri, Kwahseti, and Gwinodje, and they have approved my request. As War Chief, I must lead my People home and make sure they are safe, but if this council approves Sky Messenger's mission, I will finish my duties at Coldspring Village, and meet him on the trail to the east of Shookas Village. I—”

A mixture of clapping and cheers rumbles through the house.

High Matron Kittle lifts both hands and holds them in the warm firelit air until the disturbance dies down. Her beautiful face has gone somber. Firelight makes the yellow hawk wings around her collar appear to flutter. She says, “I assume that the assembled Hills matrons believe in Sky Messenger's mission?”

Zateri answers, “We do, High Matron.”

Gonda calls, “If you please, High Matron, may I say that I think it will make an impression on the Landing People when representatives from both the Standing Stone nation and the Hills nation approach them about peace.”

Nods go through the chiefs and matrons, and spread to the crowd.

I dip my head to Hiyawento, thanking him. He gives me a small smile. We both know the Dream. We must face it together. I only wish Baji was going with us. If we had a Flint War Chief along, our peace delegation would be even more impressive.

Just the thought of her leaves my heart beating a dull staccato in my chest.

Blessed Ancestors, I need her. She is my strength.

Father continues, “I would ask one other thing, if I may?”

“What is it?” Kittle says coldly. She appears anxious, eager to end this council meeting so that village repairs can continue. She must be terrified every instant that we're already being surrounded.

“I would ask that when Sky Messenger and Hiyawento decide to head for the country of the Mountain People—”

“If they make it that far,” Kittle says ominously.

“Yes, if they do, I wish to be allowed to go and meet them there. Other than Atotarho, I believe the Mountain People will be the greatest obstacle to our alliance, and I may be able to help win them to the side of peace.”

Mother's face tenses. She takes a step toward Father before she catches herself. They have been divorced for twelve summers, and Father's new wife, Pawen, is standing in the crowd behind him. Mother says, “Gonda, you know as well as I do that Yenda has been made Chief of Wenisa Village. Surely you do not expect to—”

“I do, in fact.” Father smiles broadly. “I'm looking forward to sitting across the fire from my old enemy—the man who destroyed Yellowtail Village twelve summers ago—and discussing peace.”

“He will laugh in your face,” Mother warns.

“Perhaps. Nonetheless, I understand him. I've fought against him often enough that I believe I know how he thinks, and therefore, I may be of use.”

Kittle massages her forehead. This must seem bizarre to her. She is desperately worried that the Standing Stone nation is on the brink of destruction, and she has three fools who, instead of planning to defend their decimated villages, wish to trot out, preaching peace to neighboring nations.

Kittle says, “There are two requests before the council. How do you cast your voices?”

Matron Daga immediately says, “No.”

Mother votes, “Yes.”

One by one, every other matron votes yes, including High Matron Kittle.

Kittle returns to Matron Daga. While the vote was being taken, Chief Yellowtail has been speaking with her in a low calm voice, perhaps explaining the benefits. Her elderly face has gone from fierce to resigned. She lifts her hand and calls, “High Matron, if you please.”

“Yes, Matron Daga?”

“As Chief Yellowtail has pointed out to me, we should all be united on this issue. If Sky Messenger, Hiyawento, and Gonda can go to the others nations and say that we all agree peace is the way, it will, perhaps, lend more weight to their message. I would, therefore, like to change my vote to yes.”

Every person standing along the walls quiets. “Is there any further discussion of this issue?”

No one speaks.

“Very well. We have achieved One Mind of Consensus. Your requests have been approved by the High Council of the Standing Stone nation. Sky Messenger, you may leave any time you wish. Gonda, you will wait until Sky Messenger sends word for you to meet him at Wenisa Village, then you may leave.”

Gonda nods his thanks.

“As for the rest of us…” Kittle pauses. “We must begin preparing for war.”

Kittle gazes out at the crowd. “You all know your assignments. We do not have enough warriors to effectively defend two villages. So, temporarily, the people from Yellowtail Village will be moving into Bur Oak Village. The Snipe Clan and Wolf Clan will get the Bur Oak Village palisades rebuilt as soon as possible, while the Deer Clan fills Bur Oak with water and food. The Hawk Clan will be responsible for making good arrows that fly true, and stockpiling them beneath the catwalks of the three rings of palisades. While the repairs are coming along, the Bear and Turtle clans will be responsible for protecting the villages. Any questions?”

There were none.

“Very well, I fear we haven't much time. This council is dismissed. Let us get to work.”

A soft din rises as people begin filing out of the council house.

Kittle stalks past me with barely a glance.

People rise from the benches and filter around me. Over Mother's shoulder, I see Father making his way through the crowd, heading for the exit. Atotarho's former war chief, Sindak, walks at his side. They glance at each other uneasily. It is a strange sight. Less than one-half moon ago, Sindak led the war party that destroyed Father's village, White Dog Village.

Black Cape, whom I call The Voice, since frequently that is all I know of him, is slowly circling the walls of the house, waiting for me. The hair at the nape of my neck prickles.
What does he want? It must be urgent for him to brave the crowds of the council house.

Tutelo stands alone on the southern wall, beside Gitchi. But she seems to be watching The Voice. A long time ago she named him Shago-niyoh. None of us know his true name.

Mother says, “Are you still committed to this foolishness of going alone into the heart of enemy territory?”

“I am.”

“You know, of course, that as soon as Atotarho hears of your mission he will dispatch warriors to murder you.”

“Oh, I'm sure of it,” I casually reply.

Mother scowls at me. “And you still refuse to carry weapons?”

“When Hiyawento arrives, he will guard me.”

“That may be many days.”

“I'll be all right.”

She shakes her head. “This is a bad decision, my son. I pray the Forest Spirits take pity upon you.”

As Mother walks away, following the crowd outside, the black form closes in, and I smell his distinctive scent, as though the odor of ancient destruction clings to his cape.

When only Tutelo, Gitchi, and I stand alone in the council house, The Voice walks straight to me, leans close, and whispers, “
Sodowegowah has seen her face.”

“Who? Whose face?”

As if blown by a wind I cannot feel, his cape billows. He backs away, and gracefully walks out the door.

When he is gone, it takes me a moment before I can manage to get a deep breath into my lungs.

My sister walks forward with Gitchi at her side. Her eyes are tired, tortured. She loved her husband very much. “What did he say?”

“That Sodowegowah has seen her face.”

“Did you understand?”

“No.” I reach down to stroke Gitchi's gray muzzle. He affectionately licks my hand.

As we walk outside into the morning sunshine, I slip my arm around her shoulders. “How are my nieces?”

“Still sleeping, I hope. It was a hard night for us.”

“Baji said to tell you she loves you. She says you're the bravest person she's ever known.”

Tutelo looks up. “I wanted so to see her this morning. Is she gone?”

“Yes.”

“And when are you leaving, brother?”

“As soon as I've filled my pack, and said good-bye to Taya.”

“I didn't see her at the council meeting.”

“She wasn't feeling well this morning.”

Tutelo slips her arm around my waist and holds me close as we cross the crowded plaza to the Deer Clan longhouse.

 

Eight

Though afternoon sunlight painted the rolling hills with swaths and streaks of gold, indigo shadows encircled the patches of snow that lingered in the most thickly wooded areas, mostly on the north slopes. War Chief Baji kept searching them, identifying the slightest movement, or shift of colors. Fortunately, the only things she'd seen all day were animals and birds. The rich scents of damp earth and old autumn leaves filled the air.

When the trail curved through a rocky defile, Baji's pace slowed to a walk. Breathing hard, she looked around. Massive gray boulders the size of longhouses piled atop one another here, and extended for perhaps four hundred paces. She turned, saw her deputy, and called, “Dzadi, take four men and scout the top of the rocks.”